Easter 3
It was Palm Sunday, and a family’s six‑year‑old son had to stay home from church because of a bad throat. When the rest of the family returned carrying palm branches, he asked what they were for. His mother explained, “People held them over Jesus’ head as he walked by.”
“Wouldn’t you know it,” the boy fumed. “The one Sunday I don’t go to church, and Jesus turns up!”
It’s a fun story but today we meet a very different moment when Jesus does turn up, but for a long time he isn’t recognised at all. The account we heard of Jesus meeting two of his followers on the road to Emmaus (Luke 24:13–35) is full of questions:
Why didn’t they see him? Why didn’t they know it was him? Why were their eyes “kept from recognising him”?
But if we focus only on those questions, we risk missing the deeper invitation of the passage, that is the invitation to examine our own ability to see, recognise, and walk with the Risen Lord Jesus.
Why these two followers couldn’t recognise Jesus remains a mystery. Luke tells us simply that “their eyes were kept from recognising him.” Perhaps grief had clouded their vision. Perhaps the trauma of watching him die had drained all hope from them. Perhaps they were so overwhelmed by the pressures of ordinary life that resurrection simply didn’t fit into their expectations anymore. Whatever the reason, Jesus was right beside them - and they couldn’t see him.
And this can sometimes perhaps be true for us. We can be distracted by all manner of things: maybe by being too busy, or not busy enough, or by carrying grudges or disappointments or perhaps being preoccupied with getting church things “right” rather than getting our relationship with God right or simply just being worn down by life’s demands.
It is really easy to miss Jesus walking with us.
Yet there is something really important still going on in this passage - even in their confusion, the two people kept talking about Jesus. They talked about their hopes, their disappointments, their longing for what might have been. They talked about the rumours of resurrection, rumours that they didn’t yet dare to believe. And into that conversation Jesus stepped.
And one of the insights echoed in many Emmaus Road sermons or commentaries is that Jesus often reveals himself not to those who have everything sorted, but to those who are honestly wrestling with faith. He draws near to those who are trying to make sense of their lives in the light of God’s promises.
Jesus listens to them, and then he gently, but firmly, reminds them of what they already knew but had forgotten. He talks about what is written in scripture to them, beginning with Moses and the prophets, showing them that the Messiah had to suffer before entering glory.
Many preachers note that this is the heart of the Emmaus story - that the risen Jesus is recognised through the Word before he is recognised by sight. Their hearts begin to burn within them as he speaks. Something awakens. Something stirs. Something that has long been dormant begins to breathe again.
And this is a reminder for us: when we come to Scripture not as a rulebook but as a place to meet the living God, something in us begins to wake up. The Word reshapes how we see the world, and suddenly we notice Jesus in places we had overlooked him. And when we let Scripture speak into our disappointments, we often find that God has been weaving a far deeper and more surprising story than the one we thought we were living.
The two disciples urge Jesus to stay with them - a simple act of hospitality that becomes the turning point of the story. At the table, Jesus takes bread, blesses it, breaks it and gives it to them. And in that moment their eyes are opened. They recognise him - and he vanishes from their sight.
It is no accident that Jesus is recognised in the breaking of bread. Throughout the gospels, meals are moments of revelation, fellowship, forgiveness and grace. And in the life of the Church, the breaking of bread remains a place where Christ makes himself known to us - not only in remembrance, but in real fellowship and real encounter.
Easter is a wonderful season. It is about new life, new hope, fresh starts. It is about love, forgiveness, mercy and grace. But Easter is not the end of the story - it is the beginning. The resurrection is not just a moment, it has become and continues to become a movement. In the church calendar, we stand now in the time between resurrection and Pentecost, the time when the risen Christ prepares his followers for the gift of the Holy Spirit.
And we must be careful not to get stuck. It is easy to celebrate the great feasts - Christmas, Easter, Pentecost for example - and forget that they are meant to propel us into a life of discipleship, mission and transformation. The resurrection is not something we admire from a distance - it is something we are called to live.
Easter challenges us to go out and live the message of hope, rebirth, and renewal. We do this not in our own strength, but in the strength of the Holy Spirit who walks with us. We journey through seasons of growth and change, through joy and sorrow, through times of clarity and times of confusion - and in all of it, Jesus walks beside us.
The Church must be, at its heart, a community of people committed to knowing Jesus better and helping others to know him. The Emmaus story reminds us that fellowship matters. Conversation matters. Hospitality matters. Breaking bread matters. These are places where Jesus becomes known.
And so today, as we share bread and wine, we are not performing a ritual. We are sharing a meal with family - with Jesus at the head of the table. This is the privilege he gives us, a place at his table, a place in his kingdom, a place in his life.
The message of Emmaus is simple - look for Jesus.
Look for him in the lonely, the lost, the disadvantaged. Look for him in the comfortable and the powerful. Look for him in the ordinary moments of your day.
Look for him in Scripture. Look for him in fellowship. Look for him in the breaking of bread. And when you realise he’s been beside you all along, simply welcome him in.
Jesus was frustrated with the two disciples he walked with, but he didn’t reject them. He walked with them and he taught them. He accepted their invitation and he revealed himself to them.
And he does the same for us. There will be times of doubt, times of distraction, times when we simply fail to notice him. But he never turns away. He never refuses our invitation. He never stops walking beside us.
Wherever we are on our Emmaus Road today - full of hope, full of questions, full of confusion, or full of joy - we can hold out our hands to Jesus and ask him to walk with us more closely. We can ask him to open the Scriptures to us, to open our eyes, to open our hearts, and to guide our steps.
And as we do, may our hearts burn within us. May our eyes be opened.
And may we, like those first disciples, go out with joy to tell others that we have seen the risen Lord. Amen.
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